


Obscure Orchards

by moemachina



Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Ivalice (Ivalice Alliance)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25942225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moemachina/pseuds/moemachina
Summary: Before Zalbag found out, Alma spent several blissful weeks reading lewd poetry from her father's private library.
Relationships: Alma Beoulve/Ovelia Atkascha, Alma Beoulve/Tietra Heiral
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Obscure Orchards

**Author's Note:**

> I [wrote two drabbles](https://moemachina.livejournal.com/4042.html) on LiveJournal back in 2007, and I have rescued them at this late date partly because I'm working on something that tangentially touches on them (albeit in a fashion that would have undoubtedly horrified my 2007 self) and partly because it occurred to me that, um, maybe I should not be relying on ancient LJ posts as an archive.
> 
> Ah, drabbles.

**I. The Poet's Lesbia**

Before Zalbag found out, Alma spent several blissful weeks reading lewd poetry from her father's private library.

Her father thought she sought sermons. Dycedarg and Ramza knew she stole other volumes to read under the apple trees with Tietra, but they never protested. Like all gentlemen, her brothers knew the scholar's code: everything naughty was left untranslated in old tongues.

Of her brothers, only Zalbag knew Alma was teaching herself Old Archadian.

And she taught Tietra. Some things are easy to learn in obscure orchards in the late afternoons of high summer, even without a decent dictionary, even without words.

**II. Hot Bricks**

"I can't sleep." She sounded childish even to her own ears, but the other girl did not draw back.

Instead, Alma whispered, "Then I'll tell you a story. Once upon a time, the High Queen Ashelia..."

Ovelia could feel Alma's warm breath against her ear; Ovelia could feel Alma's warm arms around her waist. Nights in the abbey were cold. For heat, the good sisters left them only cotton shifts, coarse blankets, and one another.

The story marched past Ovelia's unhearing ear. Eyes unseeing, she watched the ceiling until the steady breath and heartbeat beside her lulled her to sleep.


End file.
